Count the Scars
by FacelessNightmare
Summary: When Ivan sees the scars on Matthew's wrists, he tries to get to know the Canadian. But are his intentions really that good? Human names used, CanadaxRussia pairing, may have to mature later.
1. When he saw the scars

**Written from Canada/Matthew's point of veiw, and all the characters are in highschool. (I'm just to lazy to pick who should be teachers or not...)**

**DISCLAIMER: Obviously I don't own APH or the characters.**

Count the Scars _PART 1_

I sighed quietly in the corner of the classroom, glancing at the clock. Five more minutes. Five more lonely minutes before the school day was over. I should have been paying attention since I'm failing science, but it doesn't really matter; it's not like I have any goals.

"Pssst! Hey, Matt!" a very familular voice whispered from the next table over. Alfred; the most idiotic and childish person you could ever meet.

I pulled one of my knees up to my chest, hugging it to my body as I tried to shrink more and more away from my social brother. "W-what do you want?" I whisper quietly, staring down at the closed text-book infront of me.

"Well, since mom and dad are out of town this weekend, I was thinking of throwing a huge party! Could you buy the snacks and stuff?" the blue-eyed twin replied, smiling pleadingly.

I closed my eyes; I had no logical reson to refuse his request. "Fine... But I don't want to get stuck cleaning every thing up afterward again, okay?"

Alfred smiled, nodding. Just then the bell rang and all the students rushed to gather their things and leave, all of them but me. I'd wait until every one was gone first. The room was chaotic as students chattered loudly, flocking together into their groups and piling out of the class. Even my science teacher left, not noticing that I was still in my seat. Just another ordinary day in my missreble life.

[LATER]

The swingset creaked just slightly at the sudden weight put on it. Funny, I've had such a small appetite lately that there was no doubt I lost several pounds... None the less, now was my only chance to relax before my home would be filled with abnoxious strangers and become party centeral for the next two days. How utterly annoying. It didn't matter to me how hot the evening air still was as I rolled up the sleeves to my favorite red sweater. Looking down at my left wrist, I ran my fingers over the many smooth pale scars. _There's so many... To many to coun-_ my thoughts were interupted by the sound of the swing next to me creaking loudly and the sudden realisation that I wasn't alone on the formerly abandoned playground. I rushed to pull my sleaves back down when a large hand gripped my arm to stop me. It was quiet. So very quiet. I glanced at my company from the corner of my eye and flinched away from him once I regestered who he was.

"I-Ivan?" I stammered quietly, weakly pulling my arm from his grasp.

"Da. You're Matthew, right?" the silver-haird teen asked; all I could do was nod since no words came to mind.

When I didn't speak, he desided to continue. "Why did you do that to yourself?" he asked, his gentle words not hiding the cruelty that lased his voice.

I looked away from him, unable to stare into those violet eyes any longer. "I-it doesn't matter, Ivan. Please leave me a-alone." I mumbled and attempted a soft smile to prove I was okay; though any fool could tell I wasn't. He was so intimidating. He was so much taller than me, infinatly stronger than me, and I just couldn't get rid of the feeling in the pit of my stomache that he was dangerous. This Russian man scared me, but I still felt a tiny warmth through my body at the thought of some one acctually acknowledging my exsistance.

His lips curved down into a faint pout as he seemed to almost squint at me. I'd never seen any one make that face before, but it made me feel almost like he was disecting my personality, reasons, and motives. Ivan was analising me and I didn't like it. His next words only made me feel more uncomfortable. "You're a terrible liar, Matthew. And I won't leave until I know the trueth."

I stared down at the scars on my wrists. Some old, some new. "Why do you care?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"You don't know me..."

"Doesn't mean I can't get to know you. You're... intriguing."

It felt as though my heart froze when he said that last word. It wasn't a concerned, nice word as he had been using prior. No, the way he said it, 'intriguing', was dark and cold, it almost had a devious ring to it. It was like he had dark intentions; not ones to help me through my pain like he had previously made me beleive. I should have ran, away. Returned to the safety of my home where I could try to count these scars like I did every night. But I was to scared to move; it was a chore to breathe calmly. It didn't help that I could feel his dark smile burrowing into my head...

**And I bring you yet another emo story; 'cept this one I'm planning to continue. I'll update when the inspiration hits to write another chapter, so I may do a few one-shots here and there as well. Thanks for reading this chapter and I hope you'll read the next one when I get around to making it! :)**


	2. Oh, how they abuse me

**Wut? Updating again in less than a week? I was listening to Billy Talent and stumbled across a few songs by a band called Oomph! as well, so just had to right more.**

**DISCLAIMER: Obviously I don't own APH or the characters; just the idea for this story.**

_Count the Scars PART 2_

After I had managed to calm the fear rising in me enough to breathe without thinking, I desided to speak no matter how pitiful the vocabulary I'd manage would be. "W-hat do y-you m-mean?" I whispered, quieter than ever. A chuckle was all I heard.

"Well, I'll be seeing you... Alot more often." Ivan said cheerfully, his dangerous laugh echoing in my head as he stood up. I stared down at my hands, wide-eyed in fear as he walked away. _What could he be planning to do...? _I thought as I slowly stood up from the swing seat, turning on my heels in the direction of my home and began to sprint. _I've got to avoid him! I can't let him get to close or... or... _I slowed enough to fling the front door open without running into it and nearly crashed into my father. "Matthew! Where the Hell were you?" he shouted. "Honey, don't yell." I heard my mother say sharply from the living room. They must of found out about the party.

My father grabbed my shoulder painfully hard as he slammed the door shut, pulling me into our small livingroom. There I saw Alfred, sitting on the couch with his head hanging and our mother standing next to him with her arms folded. "Sit!" both parents comanded, pointing to the cushon next to my brother. I scurried over obediently, glaring at Alfred when he flashed me an appolagetic look. It was uncomforably silent for a minute until our father desided to speak. "Gilbert's father overheard a call about a party. At. Our. House." he said, obviously having trouble refraining from yelling again. "So were told about it. We've had to postpone our buissness trips until next week." our mother continued irritibly, "And apperently, Matthew, not only did you not try to stop it, but you even agreed to buy the snacks and liquer for this party! I expect so much more from you!" she finnished. Hearing that made her husband totally snap. "Liquer? LIQUER? You idiots were planning on drinking at your age? What the Hell is wrong with you?" he screamed, face red and vains popping out on his temples and neck. He was angery and beyond any controle, and, fate is so cruel, desided to pick me to take his anger out on.

I can't say which hurt more, when his fist made contact with my face or my mother's increadibley high-pitched scream. She should be used to it by now, though; every time Alfred does some thing stupid, our father punishes _me_. The force was still enough to make me fall into my brother, though. He caught my wrist to stop me from falling into the glass coffee table, but gasped and let go any how. _Why would he- Oh my God. I didn't roll my sleeves down._ I tried to scramble away, but Alfred grabbed my shoulder and spun me around to face him, grabbing my arms to look at my wrists. "M-Matt! Your wrists! Why?" he shouted in disbeleif. I started squirming and struggling, trying to escape. This would only worsen the situation! A strong hand grabbed my hood and ripped me from Alfred's grip; I didn't know a person could look so red. "You cut yourself? To top it all off you're a fucking emo bastard?" my father screamed, grabbing the front of my hoodie and lifting me a little off the floor. Getting him that weight lifting set for a Christmas present a few years ago was quite obviously a bad idea. He sort of threw me at the wall, knocking the wind out of me; I scrambled away, coughing. He charged after me like a raging bull as I sprinted up the stairs to my room. I barely made it to the closet of a bedroom and locked the door before my father could grab me again. "FUCK!" he swore, the loud thump most likely indicating that he had punched my white door.

[LATER]

It took another hour before things calmed down; only then did I finally let my legs give out under me and leaned against the door, sliding down it until I finally hit the floor. I would have cried, but the throbbing in my cheek was to painful to have the distraction of an emotional break down. Why did I even bother to continue living? My parents hated me, my brother took advantage of my lack of confidence, I was invisible to the entire student body, and now some six-foot sadistic creep was planning to do God knows what to me. Maybe deep down I just didn't want to give every one the satisfaction of not having to deal with me any more. But what ever it was that kept me from killing myself couldn't stop me from crawling over to my bed and pulling the razor out from under my pillow. I pulled myself onto my bed, flopping over onto the sheets and grabbing my stuffed bear. The fluffy white teddy bear was my first and last gift ever, so I didn't think it was that childish to still be so attatched to it. I bit my lip as I proceded to slowly slice the already scarred skin of my wrists. They would regret abusing me like this one day... They really would. I placed three cuts on each wrist; two for the punch to the face, two for being thrown at the wall, and two for the danger that Ivan would undoubtebly put me in. Every pair of cuts I etched into my skin represented something really bad that had happened to me, and that was a very long list considering there was to many to count any more.

I shoved the slightly bloody razor back under my pillow and pulled my sleeves down past my hands, hugging my bear, Kumajiro, close as I curled up on the sheets. Sleep. I needed to sleep so I could get out of the house before my father got up in the morning the next day. I stared blankly at the white walls of my room, barely seeing the red trimming in the dim light. Every thing was so white. So sterile. It was so painfully pure and unstained; it was so hard not to just take buckets of red and black paint and just fling them at the walls, floor, and ceiling. The only thing that wasn't white were my cloathes, my bed, the small pile of sketch pads and pencils in the corner that made up the rest of my non-school belongings, and Kumajiro's black beaded eyes. When I saved up enough money, this white room would finally become a darker, more impure looking place like I had always wanted it. And with that passing thought, I fell asleep.

**In news totally unrelated to the story; I saw K'naan live in concert at midnight! My throat hurts from screaming, cheering, and singing along and my head is throbbing from others doing the same, but I'm happy! :) I hope you liked this chapter as much as I liked writing it, I'll try to get the next chapter up sooner than later.**


	3. Chapter 2 bonus!

**I need to stop updating so much before I hit a big writer's block... Any how, one of the peole who read the last chapter mentioned that they thought having Alfred's point of veiw on the situation would be interesting, and I loved the idea. So, here's Alfred's pov starting from when Matthew charges into the house... (and thank you KissychanDunefan for the idea!)**

**DISCLAIMER: Obviously I don't own APH or the characters; I just own the idea for this story.**

Count the Scars PART 2 BONUS

I sat on our old leather couch, feeling that angry look only a mom could manage being constantly cast my way. _I didn't do any thing wrong, so why are mom and dad so fricken angry? I've had lots of parties before and nothing's ever gone wrong!_ I thought in frustation, flinching when I heard dad yelling and the front door being slammed. If only Matt had a cell phone, then I could have called him and told him how angry dad was. Then he could have avoided coming home and he wouldn't get in trouble as well... I was shaken from my thoughts when Matthew sat down beside me timidly. I gave him an appolagetic look, but he seemed to be angry at me to accept it so I just looked back down at my lap. Every thing was quiet for what felt like forever.

"Gilbert's father overheard a call about a party. At. Our. House." I made a mental note to kick Gilbert's self-absorbed ass next time I saw him.

"So we were told about it. We've had to postpone our business trips until next week. And apparently, Matthew, not only did you not try to stop it, but you even agreed to buy the snacks and liquour for this party! I expect so much more from you!" Oops. I forgot to tell Matty about the beer... And how could they expect more from him? They probably wouldn't feed him if it was okay!

And that's when dad snapped. He was screaming and his face was so red it was almost purple. And who does he decide to charge at? Matthew, of course. What kind of hero am I when I can't even take the beating that I deserved and my brother does instead? But it's always been like that; mom and dad always spoiled and pampered me, and left my younger brother (by twenty minutes might I add) to live in my shadow. And whenever I objected to how they treated Matt, they'd make his favorite pancakes for breakfast the next day and go on ignoring him. I was taken off guard when dad punched my twin in the face though, and my mother's scream didn't really help with the shock. I guess he was punched pretty hard, since Matthew rammed against my side and fell toward the coffee table. I just managed to grab his wrist before he hit the glass surface and- wait. He had a bunch of smooth, almost rubbery, thin bumps on his wrist. Were they...? I gasped in surprise and let go, barely regestering the faint crack noise when he hit the table. I don't think he noticed the cut in his hoodie or the little blood soaking into it since he tried to run from me. No. I needed an answer. I spun him around to face me, gripping his arms tightly so that I could look at the scars. "M-Matt! Your wrists! Why?" I shouted, only to have dad pull him away from me. Oh no. I shouldn't have done that...

Dad was screaming like a phsyco and even threw Matt at the wall, knocking down one of the pictures down which ended up hitting my brother's shoulder. I don't think he noticed that, either. He was coughing pretty hard as he scrambled away; I thought he was going to cough up blood like in the movies. Dad charged after him and I shot up to go save Matthew, but mom grabbed me and had to pin me back down onto the couch. "Let go of me! Dad's going to tare Matty to peices!" I cried, struggling to get back up. Who knew such a dainty office woman could be so strong? "Don't even try it! What if you get hurt?" she said sharply, relaxing when I stopped fighting. "What if I get hurt? What if I get hurt? Are you mentally challanged? What if Matt gets hurt? He is hurt!" I said in disbelief at first, but soon letting my anger get to me. How could she care so little about her youngest son? It was disgusting! Dad came raging down the stairs before she could respond, so she ran over to calm him down.

[LATER]

After about an hour of screaming, yelling, arguing, pleading, and threats to call the police later, my father had finally calmed down completely. He sighed, flopping into his armchair to the left of the couch. "My hand is throbbing... Honey, can you get the first-aid kit?" he said, rubbing his swollen knuckles. Mom nodded. "Of course dear. Oh, and we should get a new coffee table. I think this one's got a crack in it; wouldn't want some one to cut their fingers on it." she said before leaving the room. I sat there in disbeleif. How could dad complain about a hurt hand when he'd just beaten up one of his son's? How could mom worry about a crack in the table when it was one of her son's injured and falling body that made that crack? How could they not care about Matthew so easily and without guilt? It made me feel sick. It made me want to hurl. Infact, I think I was going to. "I-I need to go to bed." I whispered. "Alright, go off to bed; but you're grounded for the next month." dad said, opening his arms for a hug. I just shook my head and left the room, running up the stairs and straight to the bathroom. I dove for the toilet, lifting up the lid in a flash and vomiting twice. I hadn't eaten dinner, so it was all bile. It burned my throat, but I didn't bother to dig through the medicine cabinet for something to sooth it; Matt had been hurt so much more almost every week. I slowly got up, flushing the toilet and walking over to the sink, turning the tap on. Washing my face and the vomit from my mouth, I glared at my reflection. "Why do they hate him so much? Why don't they care? He's so much more well behaved than me and he gets better grades, too! So why do they love me and not him?" I whispered, repeating the questions over in my head, failing to come up with any answers.

Stepping out into the hall, I made my way to Matthew's room, opening the door slowly and peeking in. He was asleep. I walked over to him and could pick up the faint smell of blood. "I don't blame you Matty; I'd do it too if I were you." I whispered, kneeling down beside his bed. I smoothed some stray hairs back from his face, biting my lip when I say the swollen bruise on his cheek. "I'm so fucking sorry, Matt. I promise to be a better hero for you from now on." I murmered, hugging my sleeping brother before getting up to leave._ I'm going to make them pay for hurting Matthew one day. _I thought as I left the room and made my way to my own. I flung my door open, disgusted by how it was plastered with rebelious stickers and signs compared to Matthew's clean white door. I wanted to tear the posters off my blue walls, throw out the comics and cloathes and burger wrappers that littered my carpeted floor, burn the skateboards that filled my closet, and push my supremely soft and comfy bed off the roof. All that my twin had in the way of extras was a teddy bear and a meager amount of art supplies. Despite all my anger and rage, I was asleep almost as soon as I tossed myslef onto my American Flag themed bed.

**Looks like Alfred isn't as bad of a brother as Matthew thought! Well, I hope you'll stay tuned for when I crank out the next chapter at some point, thanks for reading this bonus chapter!**


	4. It's so different

**4 chapters in less than a week? No wonder my fingers hurt! Well, I'm going to need to take a bit of a break before writing the next chapter. Any how, enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own APH or the characters; just this fanfic.**

Count the Sacrs _PART 3_

I woke up the next day to the sun already hanging high in the sky. "Crap..." I muttered, pulling myself off the red sheets of my bed and trudging over to my door, hugging Kumajiro tightly to my chest. _Why's door open...?_ I thought dully, shutting it quietly behind me. Alfred, too, was coming out of his room. When I made eye contact with him, he just looked away and ran down the stairs. "Good morning to you, too." I muttered, walking down the stairs. I tried to walk over to the door as quietly as possible so my dad wouldn't notice me, but of course he did. "Matthew. Come in the kitchen, I want to talk to you." he said, his voice free of any emotion. I timidly scooted into the room, standing in a corner and looking at my father, leaning against the counter sipping at some coffee. He cleared his throat and set the mug down. "Where are you going, and with a child's toy at that?" he asked, looking at- no, _past_ me. "T-the park. I w-was going to sit o-on the s-swings." I whispered, clutching Kumajiro tighter and looking down at the soft 'fur'. I heard my parent scoff. "Alright then; I think you learned your lesson last night. Just make sure to hide your face; don't want some idiot complaining 'bout it." he said, picking up his coffee again. I nodded, pulled my hood over my head, and sped out of the house.

Slowly walking down the street, I headed in the opposite direction of the park. I didn't know where I was going, but I certantly wasn't going to go some where that my parents could find me easily. I had to dodge several people who didn't notice me on the sidewalk and sped through random ally ways when I came across one. I ended up finding myself standing at the steps of a long-abandond church. "A church, eh...?" I muttered, walking up the steps. A voice starled me. "Hey, kid, what's got you going to such an unawsome place?" I spun around to see Gilbert standing a few feet away from me with his hands in his pockets. _Gilbert... Gilbert... Gilbert... If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have been beaten last ni-_ All of the sudden, I collapsed to the ground in mid-thought, sobbing. I was so angery at him, but all I could feel at the moment was saddness and pain. "Kid!" the red-eyed teen exclaimed, jogging up to me. He knelt down, helping me sit up. "A-Alfred?" I heard him ask; I shook my head. He seemed to be thinking as I sat there crying uncontrollably. "Hm... oh, Matthew! Matt... Matt why are you crying?" he asked, putting a hand on my shoulder. He didn't sound very concerned, at least not as concerned as he did when he thought I was my brother. "I-it's your f-f-fault, y-you ass!" I whispered through my cries. Why couldn't I stop crying? I felt his hand leaving my shoulder, so I just burried my face into my stuffed bear. "What did I do? I'm sure I haven't done any thing but awsome stuff for a long while." he said, seeming more concerned about becoming 'unawsome' than any thing now. I coughed as I tried to steady my breathing, swiftly glaring at him. "Y-your dad heard you get a c-call about the party! He t-told my parents!" I said. That had to be the first time in a long time that I'd spoken above a whisper. Gilbert just shrugged. "So what? Aren't you, like, grounded or some thing then?" he asked. I gave him a deathly look that clearly showed how much I hated him, stood and jumped over his crouching body. I sprinted down the street, going farther away from him and my home.

I nearly ran into a few people as I sprinted blindly down the sidewalk, receiving objections and shouts and knocking my hood off. No one noticed that I was hurt; all they saw was some teen being recless most likely. I ran around a sharp corner, finally crashing into some one and falling backwards, but a hand caught mine. I knew the grip of that hand. "Ivan!" I gasped, stepping back to catch my balance. The giant teen smiled at me, bending down and picking up Kumajiro. "Hello, Matthew. Aren't you lively today?" he said happily, handing me my bear. Could he ever speak with out that hint of danger in his voice? But almost as soon as he let go of Kumajiro, I felt his large hand cup my chin and turn my head to the side, reveiling all of my bruise. He had that look again. That analizing look that he had had last night; but this time the look in his eyes almost made it seem like he was amused by the wound. "Looks like some one was mad at you, da? It explains why you're crying~!" he chuckled, letting go of my chin. I held Kumajiro close and looked the other way, blocking my bruise from his veiw and blushing slightly. I was still crying? "W-whatever." I muttered, rubbing the tears away with my fist. He grabbed my hand and started pulling me down the sidewalk. "Come on, I'll get you some ice for that bruise at my house." He almost sounded disappointed as he spoke. _He's got to be sadistic..._ I thought regretfully, trying to keep up with his long strides.

We walked farther into a part of town I wasn't familular with; I was getting more lost with every step. The scenery changed, slowly looking more and more dangerous. By the time he announced that we were on the same street as his house, I was terrified of my surroundings. There were rundown houses, dark allies, and boarded up stores lacing the side we were on, and a barb-wired fence with a danger sign on it on the otherside. Despite it being summer, the trees here were all dead; mangled dogs running around them, fighting over garbage. "Y-you l-live here?" I squeeked, naturally pressing myself closer to Ivan despite my wishes. He seemed to smile at my fear. "Mm-hm. It's not that bad once you learn how to avoid getting mugged." he said, laughing when I gave him an 'ohmygod' look.

Shortly, we reached one of the more well-kept houses that I had seen in this poorer part of town. Ivan pushed the door open, pleasently pulling me into the house before closing the door loudly. "Brother? Is that you Ivan?" female voice called from some where upstairs. "Da. We've got a guest, Katyusha." Ivan responded, finally letting go of my now sore hand. I shrunk back against the wall from habit as a blonde woman with large breasts appeared at the top of the stairs. I blushed slightly as she scurried down the creaking steps, finding it difficult not to notice her bust again. _I'm going to hate it here even more. I just know I am._ I thought, pulling my hood over my head to hide my bruise and eyes. Ivan giggled a little before turning his attention back to his sister. "Where's Natalia?" he asked calmly. "Shopping." she said, smiling. I wasn't used to relatives talking with eachother so nicely; it was a huge differance from my loud and violent home. "-att? Matthew?" Ivan's voice shook me from my thoughts. "Oh, sorry! Hi, I-I'm Matthew." I said quietly, shaking his sister's hand. "I'm Katyusha, Ivan's older sister." she said sweetly. I was taken off guard yet again. She sounded sincerely happy, not dark like when Ivan pulled the happy act. This neighborhood was so different from mine, and so was this family. It made me feel more out of place than ever...

**Origonally, I had tried to have Natalia be the one at home and Katyusha out shopping, but I just couldn't get her personality close to right. So I just went with good ol' Katyusha and her dandy men magnets there. XD Please don't pelt me with rocks... lol.**

**Any how, thanks for reading this chapter! And thank you every one for all of your constructive critisism; it's really helping me improve my story. :)**


	5. A glimps at the monster

**It was actually kinda hard to take a break from my writing; but I don't want to give myself writer's block, so I should pace myself on writing the chapters.  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own APH or the characters, just this story.**

Count the Scars _PART 4_

After having the giant teen pull my hood off, failing to ignore Katyusha's extreamly loud and high-pitched squeek, and receiving ice wrapped in cloth, I some how found myself in Ivan's room. Not only that, but I was sitting on the edge of his bed, shirtless, and having the man prod at a wide cut in my side with tweasers. "Ouch!" I yelped as he poked the wound fairly hard. "My bad~!" he said cheerfully, pulling a peice of glass out of the injury and dropping it onto a bit of paper, increasing the size of the tiny pile of glass shards. "P-please stop poking at it; it really hurts..." I mummbled, pressing the cloth to my bruise. I regreted speaking as soon as I heard Ivan's dark but childish giggle. "AGH!" I cringed away from him as a sharp pain shot through my side. "Oops, did I push the glass in? I'm sorry..." he chuckled, a creepy smile spreading over his face. I shivered at the predatory look, cautiously sitting back in my spot. "Please, Ivan... Don't." I whispered, prepared to be stabbed again as he removed another peice. Instead, he patted away the extra blood with a cloth and set the tweasers down. "Well, that's all of it. How did you manage to get so much glass in that cut any how?" he asked, sounding a little bored now that that there wasn't an excuse to hurt me. I looked down at the stuffed bear in my lap. "I-I fell into the coffee table." I answered. I was telling the trueth; not all of it, but the trueth none the less. My supposedly new 'friend' seemed displeased with my anwser, grabbing a cloth bandage. "And why did you fall?" Ivan asked, begining to wind the bandages around me in what seemed a lazy attempt to cover the wound. He had me cornered now; he could tell when I lied and he'd just keep asking questions until he got the information he wanted. "N-no comment?" Painfully tight bandages. I sighed, picking at some black fuzz on Kumajiro. "My dad p-punched me..." I muttered. The bandages loosend back to a more comfortable state. He knew how to use pain against me, that was for sure.

I heard Ivan hum, though I wasn't sure if it was in approval of my comment or thought. Either way, he tied the generic cloth bandage and gently pushed me onto the floor. "Let me look at you're shoulder." "W-what?" "Your shoulder. It's cut." he said a little more cheerfully, probably happy to have another wound to aggrovate. I felt something cool on it, breathing in sharply through my teeth when it started to sting. "Anti-bacterial cream; it might start to burn in a bit." the Russian said; I didn't need to see his smile to know that he had that creepy grin on his face again. True to his words, the stinging slowly shifted into an even worse burning sensation. "Ah! Hot hot hot..." I thought out loud, instinctively trying to wave cool air onto the cut. Ivan chuckled, pressing an ordinary band-aid over it. _He's trying to make it burn longer, that creep._ I thought, biting my bottem lip against the hottness of the injury. I stood up and grabbed my loose white T-shirt off his bed, uncomfortably aware of him watching me as I pulled it on. It was strange that no matter how much he scared me, I could never find enough motive to run away from him. Not only that, but even though I knew he was dangerous, I had an odd feeling of security when he was nearby. I held Kumajiro at my side, gripping it's arm tightly as I stared at Ivan, and he stared back. He must of known how confused I was, since he attempted a polite smile that almost masked the evil in his eyes. Just then Katyusha knocked on the door and opened it enough to poke her head in. "Are you feeling better, um..." she said softly, letting the door swing open as she tried to think of my name. "Matthew. And yes, thank you." I said quietly, smiling at the woman. "How did you get so hurt any how?" she asked, stepping into the room fiddling with her green hairband. "He fell down some stairs; knocked over a glass vase." Ivan said before I could respond, "I'll walk you home, Matthew."

[LATER]

"You can get back home from here, right?" Ivan asked me as we stood near a petstore. I nodded. There was some thing scarey about him right now; and for once it wasn't his smile. I was about to turn and leave, when he just managed to grab the tips of my fingers. "You owe me, you know. I didn't have to fix up your wounds." he said, his voice not quite as serious as I think he intended it to be. I glanced up at the sky; it was already just about dark. "W-well, I don't have much money but-" I said, quickly picturing my plan to 'redecorate' my room going down the drain. "I don't want money." he interupted, leaning against the glass window of the store. I hugged Kumajiro close to me as I attempted to keep a distance from the creepy man. "T-then w-what?" I stammered, scared of what he might want from me. He smiled. "I'll tell you when I think of it." he chuckled darkly, letting go of my fingers. I gulped, swiftly bringing my arm out of his reach and staring at him wide-eyed. With that, he turned and started to walk away.

I quickly began to jog back home.

[AT HIS HOUSE]

Closing the front door behind me, I kicked my shoes off and walked to the livingroom. As usual, Alfred was lounging on the couch watching TV and eating a burger, our mom was typing up a hurricane on her laptop, and our dad was relaxing in his armchair. "I was wondering where you were; thought you might have gone and offed yourself with the swing ropes or something, Mr. Emo." my dad said coldly, keeping his gaze set on the newly chipped part of the table. I looked down at my feet. _Yeah, when you put the rope around my neck._ I thought, flashing him a quick glare. "Where's your hoodie?" my mother demanded; I hadn't even noticed that she stopped typing. "I must have f-forgot it there... I-I'll look tomarrow." I whispered, trying hard to sound like I wasn't lying. "You'd better." she said sharply. I nodded and left the room, trudging up the stairs and to my room. I grabbed my best sketchbook and some pencils before flopping over onto my bed. A knock on my door brought my attention from the paper just before I started drawing. "Matt?" Alfred asked, stepping into my room. I said nothing and just stared at the white paper. "Matty, I'm sor-" "I don't want your pity, Alfred! I have enough to deal with, and I don't need to add your little guilt trip to it; just leave me alone!" I snapped, my knuckles white with how tightly I was gripping the dull pencil in my hand. Alfred made a sort of half-whimper, half-sighing noise. When he had left and closed my door, I threw my sketchbook and pencil at the wall and burried my face in my pillow. _He doesn't care, he just doesn't want to feel like my pain is his fault..._ I gripped the razor under my pillow. Two for lies.

[AT IVAN'S HOUSE]

Ivan smiled as he sat on his bed, holding the red fabric of Matthew's hoody loosly in his hands. "I wonder how far I can bend you before you finally break, Matty?" he laughed quietly, picking at the hole on the side.

**Well then, I hope you liked this chapter; being a night owl gives me so much time to write~! And now that the sun's finally rising, I think I'm going to sleep until dinner time. =w= Love you all, stay tuned for the next chappy!**


	6. Leaving them for now

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own APH or the characters.**

Count the Scars _PART 6_

The next morning I woke up to a brightening sky; thank God I didn't sleep in again. Although, I still felt tired as I dragged myself out of bed and to my closet, trying to ignore the stinging in my cuts. I stared blankly at my few items of clothing. A grey hoodie, a few pairs of underwear and socks, a black T-shirt, red long-sleaved shirt, and a few pairs of pants. I suppose the lack of variety in my cloathes isn't that bad, after all, it's not like I had even an average sized closet. Quickly trading in my dirty cloaths for the black shirt and a pair of dark-grey skinnies, I reterned my sketchbook and pencil to their origonal place and left the room, making my way to the bathroom.

[SHORTLY]

I was surprised to see my brother slumped over, sitting at the table when I stepped into the kitchen. "Why are you up so early, Al?" I asked quietly, searching the freezer for some pancakes that I had made earlier that week. He was oddly silent. This wasn't like him. "A-Al?" I repeated his name, attempting a look of worry when I looked at him. "Oh, uh, I couldn't sleep last night." he mumbled in response. I left the conversation at that as I prepared my breakfast. "I'm glad to see you're eating, Matt." I paused just before putting some pancakes in the microwave. "What?" "You haven't eaten any thing for almost two days; I was worried." he said. I scoffed. _Worried my ass._ I thought angrily, putting the pancakes in and starting the microwave. "I really was worried! You need to take better care of yourself." he said, sitting upright. I growled. "What I need? You know what I need? I need to get out of this hellhole before it kills me." I muttered, slamming a bottle of maple syrup onto the counter, the microwave beeping to signal my food finnished heating up. I don't think Alfred noticed I was angery, since he moved on to a much testier subject. "Matthew... You should probably hide your wrists before you go out today." he said quietly as I sat down to eat. I glared at him. "Who's going to notice? Or are you just worried that some one's going to think I'm you again." I whispered darkly. He didn't seem to know how to respond, so I started eating.

We sat in silence, Alfred watching me eat; it was like he was staring down an endless road in the fog. He had a ghostly look, almost like he was sick. I shook my head, finnishing my breakfast quickly. _Why a I worried? He doesn't care about me! _ I thought as I stood up. I walked over to the sink and put the dishes in, feeling his gaze on my back as I filled the sink with warm, soapy water. I sighed. "Is there some thing you want, Alfred?" I asked, washing my plate. "I want to ask you a question." he said dully. "Ask away." "Where were you yesterday?" I froze. "W-what are you talking about? I was at the p-park all day." I said quietly, finding it hard to controle my stammer. "Mm-mm. I looked for you and you weren't there. Where did you go?" he said; he sounded concerned. I glared down at the plate and cloth in my hands, scrubbing the dirty dish a little more quickly. "I-I don't have to tell you. And stop pretending that you care!" I said sharply, abandoning the dishes and rushing for the door. "Matt, wait!" was all I heard before I slammed the door and began running down the streat.

_Stupid Alfred! It hurts more when he pretends to care than when he forgets me! _I thought as I charged down the sidewalk. Just like I expected, no one noticed me. No one even moved when I was about to run into them. It only took a minute or two before I passed the park, then the school, and in less than half an hour I was back at the forgotten church. "Why the church? Why do I keep coming back to the fricken church?" I muttered to myself. "Maybe your subconcious is telling you some thing." some one said, their sentance quickly fallowed with a chirp. A chirp? I looked up the steps to the door, where I saw Gilbert leaning against the doorframe of the ivy-coverd building. "You're not going to start crying again, are you?" he asked, a small yellow bird sitting on his head peeped. "Y-you remember me?" I asked, amazed. He chuckled a little and shook his head. "No; I just know Al doesn't cut himself. How unawsome." he said, walking down toward me. I rubbed my wrists in embarrasment. He stood infront of me and was quiet for a minute, then he cleared his throat. "Listen, your bro called me at four this mornin', woke me up from a pretty awsome dream. He said he was worried about you and asked me to have a chat if I saw you. I figured since I got you two in trouble, it was the least I could do after being so unawsome. Guess I was just lucky that you came back here." Gilbert explained. I just looked at him questioningly. "He doesn't care, you idiot. He just doesn't want to look like the 'badguy'." I muttered quietly, turing around and walking away. I heard the red-eyed Prussian sigh. "You've got more awsome things than you think, kid." he said moments before he was out of earshot.

[LATER]

The scenery around me was becoming vaguly familular... and earie. I looked around, feeling watched. The buildings and terrain were looking more and more like Ivan's neighborhood. I paused. I some how remebered how to get hear, but I drew a total blank when it came to remembering the way back. A woman's voice called my name. I looked up from the sidewalk to see Ivan's sister, Katyusha, half-jogging toward me. "Did you come to visit again, Mattie? Oh, it is okay if I call you Mattie, right?" she asked, slowing as she got closer. "Ah, yes, that's okay..." I whispered. She hugged me breifly. "Were you looking for my little brother?" Katyusha asked, practicly leading me in the direction of their home with her cheerfullness. "I... I guess so." I replied. _Why did I come here?_ "That's good! He was out looking for you; I think he was going to retern your hoodie." her voice drew me from the thought that I continued to repeat in my head. "Oh. Uh, d-do you think he went back home then? I really need to get that back." I said softly. Katyusha nodded and smiled. She attempted chat with me, but my thoughts were elsewhere. _Alfred doesn't care. All he cares about is himself. And now he's got Gilbert jumping on the phoney wagon with him. No one cares! ... No one... No one but Ivan. And maybe Katyusha. But they don't know me! Katyusha's just being polite and Ivan's planning some thing! I just know he's planning something. But... why do I keep coming back to him? I know he's dangerous. I know that I'm safer with my family... But why does he seem so much better? _I was brought back to reality when a strong arm draped over my shoulder. "Matthew! I was looking for you~!" Ivan giggled; I shivered. "H-Hello, Ivan. I came to get my hoodie back..." I whispered, failing to duck out from under his arm. He smiled that wicked smile. Katyusha smiled before turning and leaving us, seeming to feel she wasn't needed in the situation any longer. Ivan stood there, smiling down at me, until his older sister was out of sight. I tried to push myself away from him again; this time accomplishing the action. "You really want your hoodie back, da?" he asked, folding his arms. I nodded. "Then let's trade; I'll give it back to you if you bring me to your house." Ivan said. I was surprised, stepping back and shaking my head quickly. "N-no. My parents... I don't think they'd approve of me bringing a g-guest over without asking." I said quietly, flinching away from him when he laughed. "And what could they do to me? You can't be beaten with a guest around or anything." I looked at the ground, thinking. "Fine..." I finally replied, glancing up at him. _That smile. It has to be the scariest thing I know about Ivan..._

[LATER]

Opening the front door, I was welcomed with the smell of breakfast; eggs, toast, and bacon. "I, uh, I-I'm home..." I called. Nothing. "I brought a f-friend." A crash, then my mother was infront of my, seeming to have appeared out of no where. "A friend? I didn't know you had a friend!" she said, faking a cheerful voice. I knew that she really didn't care; she just wanted to see what kind of trouble my 'companion' could get me into. She pushed me aside, having to look almost straight up to see Ivan's face. "Привет, I'm Ivan." Ivan said pleasently, smiling at her. She almost flinched, but instead stepped aside and smiled back. "It's nice to meet you; I'm Matthew's mother. Please come inside." It was all so fake. It sounded like they had read this moment off from a script. She led us into the kitchen where Alfred was shoveling down food, my father was drinking coffee, and a plate of eggs was shattered accross the floor. "Matthew, please clean up the eggs." my father said, obviously trying to sound polite, but failing. My mother motioned for Ivan to sit down as I began cleaning. I heard a bit of a choking noise and Alfred clearing his throat. "Uh, Matt? Can I please talk to you?" he said stiffly, grabbing my shoulder and dragging me out into the hall. He paused just at the other end of the hall, shoving me against the wall and holding me there by my shoulders. "What the Hell, Matt?" he said through his teeth. "W-what? What did I do!" I whimpered, squirming uncomfortabley. "That's Ivan! You're friends with Ivan?" my twin whispered angrily. I gave him a funny look. "Yeah, so?" "He's a monster, Matt! He's sent people to the hospital!" Alfred hissed. I paused, feeling anger build up inside of me; I shoved him away from me. "Well, he hasn't done any thing to me! In fact, he helped me! He fixed up my cuts and gave me ice for my bruise after dad beat me! What did you do, Al? You sat there and watched me get hurt!" I growled, balling my hands into fists. Alfred looked taken back. I waited, but he said nothing; just stood there looking confused and angery. "Don't tell me how to live my life, Alfred. I can take care of myself." I said, turning and storming back to the kitchen. I entered just in time to hear Ivan coming to the peak of his conversation with my parents. "... So, I feel I should have Matthew stay with me and my sisters until things here have... cooled down." he said calmly. My mother looked startled, and my father looked relieved until he spotted me, then anger instantly took over his features. "Matthew... Ivan has offered to have you stay with him." my mother said before her husband had time to react to my presence. "I... I will if y-you want me to." I whispered hesitantly; my parents nodded. Ivan smiled, standing up. "Alright then! I'll help you pack, Mattie." he giggled darkly. We left the kitchen and I cought Alfred worried look just before we went upstairs.

Ivan sat on my bed, looking around my room as I tossed my belongings into my school bag. "More of a hospital room than a bedroom." Ivan pointed out as I grabbed Kumajirou. I didn't answer or look at him, just let him take my bag as we left the small room. I rushed down the stairs, pausing at the door. No one came to say goodbye, no one was even there to see me before I left. All I heard was my parents' laughter from the kitchen. Grabbing Ivan's hand, I left the house, not planning to return any time soon.

**Ah, finally done~! This was a bit difficult to write since I wasn't really feeling that good; I'm not sick or anything, probably just a little depressed or something... Anyhow, enough of my own emoness; thanks for reading and I'll try to write the next chapter shortly. ^_^**


	7. Don't burn the church

**Well then, life has set me in the mood to write you another emo chapter! Y'know, I think sometimes it'd be kinda nice just to be invisible and left alone like Matt... =)**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own, nor do I claim to own, APH or the characters.**

Count the Scars _PART 7_

We walked quietly down the street, getting farther and farther from where I had lived my entire life. I gripped Ivan's hand tightly when we reached the store he had left me at last night. "Ivan... I want my sweater back now." I said quietly gazing into the shop's window without any interest. He chuckled, pulling me along. I sighed; there was no way he would talk about our deal in the slightly more upper-class public I bet...

"You'll get it when we get to my house, Mattie." he said cheerfully as we took a sharp turn down an almost ally-like street. I glanced at him questioningly, tripping when he stopped walking suddenly. The church. Why did he bring me to the church? I look up at the slightly open door just in time to catch a glimps of a crimson eye and silver hair before the door was slammed shut. "This is that Prussian bastard's turf, you know, Matthew. He doesn't really like me, but I have a feeling you can reson with him, can't you~?" Ivan said cheerfully before I could ask any questions, looking down at me with that cheap, fake smile he always used. I flinched, letting go of his hand. Had I been holding it the whole way here? "W-what do you mean?" I asked timidly, hugging Kumajirou. Ivan looked at the church darkly. "That used to be his Дедушки church... I want it burnt down." he said gently, pushing me toward the massive old building. Digging my heels into the ground, I turned enough to look at him. "W-why? You c-can't do that, it's a church!" I protested. The Russian just smiled at me darkly. "Tell Gilbert it's the church or him." Ivan giggled, shoving me forward. A gasp cought in my throat before I ran to the ivy-covered church, throwing the old wooden doors open and jogging inside.

"Gilbert? Gilbert?" I called, pausing in the middle of the isle. "What do you want, kid? Did that unawsome ass send you in here?" I heard him respond just about emotionlessly. I knew that tone; I had used it some times when the school nurse asked me about the injuries I'd get every other week. It was the sound of some one filled with hate and anger. "I-it's... Ivan... he-" I began, skimming the rows of pews. "What about him? Another threat to burn down my grandfather's church?" Gilbert shouted, drawing my attention to the very front row. I walked up to him, noticing that he was shaking a little. Maybe from rage? "H-he... He said it's either the c-church or y-you..." I whispered, gently touching his shoulder for some sort of back-of-the-mind reasurance that he wasn't already dead from Ivan's evil plans. It completely shocked me when he stood up, spun around, and slapped me. "Tell him that he's not going to burn this church down and he sure as Hell isn't going to burn me!" the silver-haired teen growled. "And while you're at it, I suggest you get as far away from him as possible; he's nothing but trouble." he said sharply. I touched my cheek. It was the opposite side of where my father had hit me, but it would have been much more conveinent and a more natural motion if Gilbert had hit the already injured side. _Is he... trying not to hurt me to much...?_ I thought, nodding timidly at him before turning and shuffling out of the dusty church. Ivan was standing just off the edge of the church grounds. He smiled at me. "Well?" he asked as I walk toward him slowly. He seemed a bit more scarey now than the other times. "Gilbert said that he wouldn't let y-you do either..." I said quietly. Ivan frowned. "Oh, well that's no fun! I guess I'll have to bug him later then..." he said childishly, pouting as he grabbed my arm and pulled me down the sidewalk. "Come on; we have to get a futon set up for you in my room and let my sisters know what's going on." he said. I stole one more glance at the church and saw Gilbert looking at me sadly from one of the broken stained-glass windows.

[LATER]

"I'm home." Ivan called as he closed the front door behind us. I heard the sound of sizzling and Katyusha humming. "You're just in time for lunch, brother!" she called from what was no doubt the kitchen. There was a thump, then a blurr of blue bolted down the hall to Ivan. He almost lost his balance when a girl in a blue spaghetti-strap dress flung herself at him, giving him a bear-hug. "I was worried! You weren't here this morning and there wasn't even a note or some thing to say where you had gone. You shouldn't do that!" she whined. Ivan laughed nervously as he struggled to pry her from his coat. "Hello to you too, Nat. Matthew, this is my little sister, Natalia." he introduced us after managing to get her an arms' length away from him. "H-hel-" I started to greet her, but the blonde cut me off. "You better not get to close to my brother." she said sharply. I was a bit stunned as she walked away; _I'm sure I didn't say any thing wrong... _Ivan smiled as he led me to the kitchen. It wasn't much; a short fridge, an old stove, very little counter space, some cubards, and a square table with just enough room for four people to sit at, along with rusted-looking metal chairs. There was so little, so how could Ivan's sisters be smiling and laughing as they sat down at the table with their small bowls of soup. It only hit me then that they really were poor trio of siblings. "Oh, you brought Matthew for lunch? I wish you had told me so that I could have made more food..." Katyusha said quickly as Ivan and I joined them. "Oh! It's o-okay! I'm not hungery." I said, watching the tall man next to me pour some of the questionably coloured food into his own bowl.

We all made light conversation durring the course of the meal, though, I wasn't really paying attention. Ivan kept leaving subtle hints of the intention of my coming over, and no one even questioned what was in the bag that he had brought home. He spoke up after they finnished eating. "Matthew is staying with us for a bit." he said bluntly, smiling despite the surprised reaction from his big sister, and the angery reaction from his little sister. "What? Why?" Natalia demanded, crossing her arms. Ivan looked at me in a way that said loud and clear that he intended me to explain. "M-m-my parents... are-... t-they abuse me, so..." I whispered, barely audible. I looked down at my hands folded on the table, my face flushed with embarrassment. Natalia 'hrumph'ed as Katyusha put one of her hands on mine. "You can stay here as long as you need to, then." she said in a gentle, motherly way that I had only ever heard my own mother use when speaking to my twin brother. "Natalia, could you please help me get the futon and some blankets?" the large-breasted woman asked the youngest of her siblings as she stood. Nat glared at me, but still fallowed Katyusha out of the room. I sighed, glad to be free of her menacing stare. "Why couldn't you have told them?" I asked, letting my arms flop to my sides as my forehead hit the table-top. "Because your parents are your problem, not mine." he said calmly, patting my shoulder. I closed my eyes and sighed. _He's so strange... _

**Дедушки is Grandpa's in Russian. Sorry about the whole at-least-7-days-between-chapters thing, but I only have my laptop every other week. Thanks for reading and sorry if the chaps start to get kinda boring; writer's block has been stalking my creativity lately... I'll try to get the next chapter done soon before my classes at school make me want to snap~!**


	8. Let's play Durak

**I appolagize for how horrendously OOC Russia is in this chapter. Writer's block is beating up my creativity.=_='**

**Disclaimer: Blah blah APH not mine blah blah story mine blah blah blah. You've heard it before.**

_Count the Scars PART 8_

I sat on the futon that had been set up for me on Ivan's floor; it smelled like dust and looked rather old, but I honestly couldn't find it in me to complain even a little. At least I had my hoodie again. Was the hole bigger then before? I continued to mentally scold myself every time I had a negative thought about the house, they were poor and that was more than enough reson not to have every thing in mint condition. I traced the lines on my palm with one of my fingers as I dodged Ivan's gaze. I glanced at his alarm clock. 1:27; we had been sitting in silence like this for over an hour now.

"So, you're family is wealthy?" he asked pleasently, drawing my attention away from my hand. Of course, all this time and the first thing he says is about what I've been trying to ignore. I just nodded, grabbing Kumajirou and staring down at the bear's black eyes. The older teen chuckled. "And some how you seem to fit in with lower-class surroundings..." Ivan mumbled as though he were thinking outloud. This felt out of place; him suddenly desiding to start a conversation... I almost wanted it to go back to being silent. Desperate to change the subject, I attempted a smile as I looked up at him. "T-this is your last year of school right?" I asked softly, staring just a little off to the side of his head as to avoid looking into those deep violet eyes.

"Why do you like that hoodie so much?" Ivan countered. What? Was he just pretending that I hadn't asked a question? _What in the world is he planning...? _I thought, smiling feebly. "Oh, i-it's just really warm and comfy I guess..." I replied weakly. _He's going to make me paranoid; I need to stop telling him these things!_ Ivan chuckled darkly. "You look scared, Mattie. Why is that?" the silver-haird Russian asked, leaning closer to me despite already sitting at the edge of his bed. My breath hitched as I tried to think of a lie. "Heh, w-what are you-?" I began, pausing to glance at him. He had that same smile on his face that made my blood run cold, but this time, it barely looked fake. Just a soft, childish smile, that some how seemed more dangerous than my inabilty to keep a seceret from this man. "I-I... I don't know..." I whispered finally. He looked some what pleased with my answer. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was only help his plan run smoothly with my obediance. Not that I could help it; years of sadness and pain showed me that the best way not to have the snot beaten out of you, was to simply cooperate. He suddenly turned to his night stand, opened a drawer, and pulled a caseless deck of cards out. "Let's play a game. If you win, you can ask one question." he said, shuffling the cards. I stared blankly at the cards in his hands, which no doubt was the cause of his chuckle. "The game's called Durak." he stated simply as he sat on the ground and set the cards out onto the floor infront of us. "W-wait. What about if y-you win?" I asked nervously; I hadn't even heard of this game before. Ivan paused in the middle of setting a card down. He smiled. "If I win, you have to help me burn down that albino's church." he said darkly. That was it. I had to win this.

Ivan explained how to play the game in fairly simple detail before we began. It was stresfull at first; he obviously knew this game well, but he seemed to be holding back on me. I had a feeling that we were taking longer than others would to play, but I had to be smart about this. I had to plan every thing to the best of my ability or lose and be forced to burn the church. As we continued, I noticed that I seemed to have less cards than Ivan. And by the end, I was amazed. Ivan tossed his last card off to the side as I tried to figure out how I did it; how I had won. "I guess that means I'm the fool." he sighed. Then his gaze settled on my face, I could feel it on my face. "So, Matt, what would you like to ask me?" he asked boredly. I stared at the cards infront of us as I silently thought and tried to think of what to ask.

"Why... Why are you so obsessed with my life?" I finally asked slowly. I was to scared of how he might react to even studder a little like I usually did. He smirked, "No comment." I glared at Ivan as he gathered the cards back into a neat deck. "You said you'd answer one question!" I complained, clenching my hands into fists. Ivan smiled as he put the cards back, then turned to face me. I flinched. He looked dangerous. "You are confused, Matthew. I said you could ask a question, but I never said that I would answer it." he chuckled. I felt totally defeted. _He would have made me BURN a church, but he won't answer my question?_ I thought angrily. It was so tempting to hit him, but of course I was to scared to. Suddenly, Ivan grabbed my hand and turned it palm-up. He pushed up my sleave and pointed at the hundreds of scars. "And this I don't aprove of; there will be trouble if I catch you doing this in my house." he said seriously. My blood felt like ice-water and I could tell that my face had gone pale. That tone... he sounded like he could kill me at any given moment.

Katyusha and Natalia never suspected that I was terrified for the rest of the day; they hardly noticed me.

**Oh God you guys must HATE me! It's been at least two weeks and all I've given you is a crappy filler chapter! _' I'm a dumbass. Sorry! [bows of apology] Thank you for reading and not hunting me down[?]!**

**How to play Durak: .org/wiki/Durak**


	9. Tears and laughter make happiness

**My art teacher is mad; I've been writing this in my notebook during my Art Block every day. XD But writing fanfiction is so much more fun than colouring with pastels, da? And superly epic thanks to Kiashi Sirius for helping me come up with most of the storyline for this chapter! You get a million and one gold stars! ^w^ Also, Russia says Matvy now because I just realised it's part of his accent. Yeah, I fail that much.**

**WARNING: Alcohol and drugs are mentioned at the beggining of this chapter. Not that either isn't as common as flies, but y'know. And Prussia's a bit OOC.**

**DISCLAIMER: I've said for the past eight chapters. I'm not saying it again. ... For a while at least.**

_Count the Scars PART 9_

The fading smell of oatmeal and rays of sunlight dancing on my face drew me from my sleep. I yawned as I sat up, looking around Ivan's room as I slowly recalled how I had ended up here in the first place. Suddenly, the door swung open and Ivan walked into the room, picking up my bag. "It's time to get up, Matvy. It almost time to leave for school, da?" he said cheerfully with that fake smile painted onto his face, tossing the backpack filled with my belongings at me. Shit. I had forgotten that it was Monday already.

[SHORTLY]

I ran down the stairs after changing into my remaining clean cloaths, hardly noticing that Ivan was holding the door open waiting for me. He said nothing as I pushed past him him and onto the sidewalk, reluctantly falling into step beside and slightly behind him as he lead the way. "What's your first class today?" he asked in what was either an attempt at a conversation, or just to learn even more about me. I glared at the ground and kept my mouth shut. _You won't anwer my question, I won't answer yours. _I thought coldly. Then, all of a sudden, Ivan grabbed my arm and pulled me into his side. "Wh-what the-?" I stammered, I could feel a faint blush tinting my cheecks as he wrapped his arm around me and kept me close. "Shut up and just keep walking." Ivan commanded, eyes trained on something ahead of us. I fallowed his gaze to a group of about ten or fifteen men eyeing us curiously. I didn't like a look of them; this huge group of men that looked between twenty and thirty. Some were smoking either ciggerettes or pot, others were drinking bottles of beer. I was sure I saw one of them even wearing brass-knuckles. I gulped and moved even closer to Ivan, clinging onto his arm as we continued to walk. It's better to choose the greater of two evils I guess. As we walked past the group, one of them threw an empty bottle at us which shattered to tiny peices at my feet; I tripped and just about landed flat on my face as a result. They were all laughing like they had totally lost it as Ivan helped me up, but they made no move to do any thing else to us. I glared at them, and accedently made eye-contact with the man with the brass-knuckles. He smirked at me and made the 'I'm watching you' motion with his hand. It was a huge relief when we rounded a corner, bringing us to a safe distance from the gang. Ivan looked down at me. "Are you allright?" he asked; the Russian actually sounded worried for once. I smiled up at him reasuringly, "I think so." We walked the rest of the way to school in a some-what uncomfortable silence.

[LATER]

"Matthew!" the voice of my older twin called behind me. "I don't want to talk to you right now, Alfred!" I hissed as he ran up beside me. The hand that he had been reaching out to touch my shoulder emediatly recoiled. "Matt, I'm sorry about-" he started to apolagize quietly, but I flashed him a glare that shut him up emediatly. Directing all my attention to my locker, I hardly noticed the slip of paper fall out as I swung the door open in an attempt to hit my brother. "Go away." I muttered, picking the paper up from the ground. Alfred sighed in defeat as he slowly and reluctantly walked away, sulking. I sighed, leaning against my locker as I unfolded the paper in my hands.

'Kid, meet me on the roof of the school at lunch alone. ~Gilbert'

I sighed again, crumpling the note up and cramming it in my pocket, grabbing my Psycology Textbook. The bell rang just as I slammed my locker shut. I ran toward my class despite the fact that the teacher wouldn't notice if I was late or didn't even show up. Unfortunatly for me, psycology classes A and B were upstairs and at the other end of the school; oh joy. As I dashed down the extremely long hallway, I found I had to much momentum to stop when somebody rounded the corner right infront of me. This other person must have been running too, since the collision sent us both flying in opposite directions a bit. "Ah! I-I'm sorry!" the other person, who, now that we were both still, I noticed was a boy from my English class, said. "N-no, I should have been more carefull! Are you a-alright?" I stammered, crawling around to collect some of his papers and books that had fallen near me. He nodded, assisting in retrieving his belongings. "I-I'm really sorry; I was in a big rush to get to History! I'm so s-sorry!" he squeeked. We exchanged several more appologies as we collected the books and paper into a neat pile; only when I was standing up did I notice that my glasses felt weird. I took them off and squinted as I examined them, my vision was obviously a bit blurry. The right arm was bent. Crap. "Oh my gosh! D-did I break y-your glasses?" he gasped as I put them back on, sighing in dismay. "I-it's alright, you didn't mean to- ...um..." "Toris." he said, smiling. I laughed and smiled, as fake as it was, and helped him up. "I'm Matthew. I'm pretty sure we have the same English class..." I said. And so our casuall and rather boring conversation continued as I walked him to class; it was the least I could do after practicly running him over like that. The conversation was so boring with cliche lame topics like the weather, school, and passtimes. I actually found myself wishing that I could be talking to Gilbert, or even Ivan.

Toris stopped infront of a door abruptly. "A-ah! This is my class." he said, smiling. I didn't return the look, but rather peered through the window on the door to see who his teacher was. "You have Mrs. Beaulieu? She's going to have your head for being late!" I whispered urgently. Toris bit his lip as he realised the fact. "Oh crap!" he breathed before panicing, mumbling what kinds of punishments he could get and what not. I glanced back into the class again, this time I accedently made eye-contact with the Satan of teachers. I seemed to be making eye-contact with the wrong people alot today. I mouthed the word 'oops' to the brunette infront of me just before Mrs. Beaulieu opened the door. "And what is this? Two students trying to skip their classes? Toris, you're nearly half an hour late! Detention, three weeks every weekday!" she hissed; I shivered and Toris gulped. "A-a-ah, but I-I didn't mean t-t-t-t-to. W-well... Y-you see-" my new aquantance stammered, shutting up from one quick glare from his she directed her attention at me, the look on her face absolutly hateful. "And you! You're not in my class! Where are you supposed to be?" she snapped, causing me to flinch. "Psyc-cology, Class B, m-ma'am." I squeaked. She looked disgusted. "Uhg. Mr. Follor. That man can't even disipline his dog properly, never mind a delinquent! Very well, you'll be joining Toris for all of his detentions as well." Mrs. Beaulieu said sharply before dragging Toris into the class and slamming the door.

[LATER]

Lunch. It was finally lunch. I hadn't seen a sign of my brother, Ivan, or Toris since that morning, and hoped I could keep it that way. It's not like I didn't like Toris, I was just worried he'd get mad at me for making him late. As I made my way up the stairs leading to the roof, I heard my brother's voice. Pearing around the corner of another hallway, I saw Alfred arguing with another boy... I'm sure his name was Arther. I couldn't hear what they were saying exactly, but it seemed like they were in a heated argument about some one named... Kiku? Yes. I'm sure that was it. Rather than trying to eaves-drop further, I continued on my way. Opening the door, only to find that Gilbert was no where in sight. _He probably just forgot about me like every one else..._ I thought miserably as I turned to leave. I gasped and took a step back when I saw said man standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. "H-how did y-y-you-?" I stammered. Gilbert smirked. "I'm awsome." the red-eyed teen said simply. I sighed moving out of his way and sat down in the middle of the roof. "So... Y-you wanted to talk to me?" I asked as he sat down across from me. Gilbert nodded, suddenly looking very serious.

"Ivan's extremly dangerous, you know."

"Y-yeah... I know..."

"Do you know _how_ dangerous?"

"...No."

"You will once he get's tired of playing with you. Ask just about any of the students; that chinese kid, Yao, especially."

"What's your point?"

"Get away from him while you can."

I looked at the ground. Alfred had told me how dangerous he was, too... And that was the very night that I agreed to live with who I was being warned about. "B-but... When I'm around him... h-he makes me feel sort of... safe." I whispered slowly. Gilbert thumped the top of my head a little roughly. The look in his eyes screamed 'Don't be so stupid! He's any thing but safe!'. I nodded, "I know it's stupid, but he treats me like a person. Like I actually exist..." A sigh was my response. Against my gut instincts, I also desided to tell Gilbert the rest. "A-and... I'm sort of... living with him for a while." I said even quieter. That did it. I had crossed Gilbert's invisible line. He tackled me; we wrestled in a small section of the roof, rolling around, swearing, hitting, punching, kicking, clawing, and even biting. It ended up with Gilbert, being stronger than me, sitting on my chest with his arms folded, feet stepping on my hands. "ARE YOU A FUCKING RETARD?" he shouted, glaring down at me. That glare was scary; halfway between Ivan in general and Mrs. Beaulieu's glare. I just stared up at him, stunned. He sighed in frustration, leaning forward a little. "You're digging your own grave Matthew Williams." the silverette growled angrily. That brought me back to reality.

"M-my full name..." I said slowly, realising that he had called me by my name a few times before.

"What?"

I was so overwelmed with emotions. _Good_ emotions. I was happy that he called me by my name rather than kid, proud that I was worth enough for him to worry about, extatic that he was trying to help me, and joyfull that he seemed to want to be my friend. I hadn't felt these things in such a long time, that I didn't know what to do with them. So I started crying. Crying and laughing. Gilbert looked extrodanarily confused, getting off my chest to sit cross-legged beside me. I sat up, crying and laughing even harder. My eyes became sore and my gut started to hurt fairly quickly, since I just about never laughed. Ever. "Kid? Matthew, what the Hell is wrong with you?" Gilbert asked, poking my shoulder tentatively. I struggled to get my laughter under controle, at least a minute passing before I had stopped entirely. He looked concerned. I smiled, rubbing the tears off my face with the back of my hand.

"Gilbert... You have no idea how happy you just made me." I said calmly, smile at him for real. He gave me a sort of questioning sideways glance, so I desided to explain myself further. "Gil, you remembered my name. Not just my name, but you remembered me. You even knew where my locker was; no one remembers that, not even my brother. A-and you're actually worried about me. It's like a present." I said quietly, to happy to notice how surprised Gilbert looked. I suddenly felt his arms around me, embrassing me in a hug. Neither of us really cared how pathetic, childish, or gay-looking it was; we just hugged, happy to be just that, happy. I couldn't remember the last time I had been that happy... "Thank you for seeing me, Gilbert." I whispered.

**Oh, what's this? I ended a chapter with HAPPINESS? It's a miracle! So, I give you the gift of a crap-load of time skips, happy birthday. Oh, and Mrs. Beaulieu [pronounced bowl-you] is actually the name of my actuall ****History teacher, but in real life, she's one of the nicest people I've ever met. She's pretty without her glasses on, too~ A-ahem, anyhow, I really wanted to finnish this before Thanks Giving Weekend was over, and I managed to on the last night! :D I am proud of myself now. Thank you for reading, and to those of you who read all my stories, don't forget about my PruCan contest! (Details on my userpage) Can't wait to see you in Chapter 10!**

**EDIT: I accidently kept calling Toris/Lithuania Toni, but it's been fixed now.**


	10. SORRY FOR THE WAIT update

**Hey, every one! I'm really sorry about my huge lack of updates with Count the Scars; I feel really bad about it! D:**

**Every day I try to work on the next chapter, and every day I draw a blank. I can't seem to get the inspiration, motivation, and ideas to write the next chapter and I really wish it wasn't that way! Although, I gave my English teacher a copy of the chapters I have done and she wants to help me work on it a little, so that will hopefully help bring forth a new chapter. I also may be going to Victoria (BCs capital city) as one of about 100 students for 3 days to simulate an actuall WORLD CONFRENCE MEETING! :D I'm hoping that will give me the spark of inspiration I've been needing if I do go.**

**Again, I'm so sorry about making all of you loyal Count the Scars readers, old and new, wait for so long. I'm trying my hardest to beat this sevear writer's block ASAP!**


	11. IMPORTANT NOTICE

**To every one ready to beat my head in with hockey sticks and curling stones for not updating Count the Scars, I'm sorry; I can't find the modivation to continue it any more, but I SWEAR to write a new chapter if I ever do find the urge! I promise! I'm just made of fail and suck worse than America trying to diet, eh?**


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